The Storm of the Century
by Supernatural Nightmare
Summary: Dean and Sam are on their way to Texas, where there are rumors of a Hurakan a weather demon . However, Sam has a strange vision of a town in Washington, sending them back north, were one of the brothers just might meet their demise. Rating may change!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Supernatural **_**or any of its characters. **

**Author's Note: I will update **_**The Host**_** soon, but this story was just begging to be written. The first chapter is really short and confusing, but I hope it gets better as I go along. Read and review please!**

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The Storm of the Century

**Chapter 1**

"_**The Vision**_**"**

The only sounds were of boots crunching over the icy dirt. The only figure in sight was a lone man dressed in a dark brown, almost black, leather jacket, a pair of jeans, and black biker boots. He was carrying a flashlight, a large duffel bag, and a map, which he kept referring to constantly. He was obviously looking for something or for someone.

A look of horror crossed the man's face as he looked from the map to a small storm cellar in front of him and back again. The storm cellar looked ancient; the wood was old and rotting, the cement was cracked and full of holes, and the roof was almost completely caved in. Only the padlock on the front of the door was new. It looked as though it had been added fairly recently, either to keep something from getting in or something from getting out.

The man walked towards the storm cellar, his steps faltering as he got closer. The padlock offered no significant challenge towards him, but it took what seemed like hours before he finally got it undone. He yanked the door open with much more force then necessary and shone his flashlight down into it.

"Oh god," he whispered, taking in the sight below him.

There was another man lying horizontally on the floor, blood covering his face and brown jacket, making him nearly unrecognizable. Nearly. The first man seemed to recognize him instantly, though.

"Sam!" he said, his voice a broken whisper. He reached down with his free hand and touched it to Sam's bloodied wrist. There was a faint pulse, one so weak, it took the man a moment to be sure it was there.

The first man tossed his duffel to the dirt-covered floor and knelt down beside Sam. He set down the map and flashlight next to his duffel, before rummaging through his pockets for his cell phone.

_"Hello?" _came a gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"Bobby, it's Dean. I found Sam. We're in Washington, about an hour away from Port Angeles. I need your help."

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Two months earlier

Sam turned down the blasting music and rubbed his temples, staring blankly at the map in front of him.

"So where are we headed again?" he asked, tracing an invisible line on the map.

"We're heading towards Texas, the desert land," Dean said. "Bobby said something about there being a hunt there."

"Did Bobby say what sort of hunt?" Sam asked, rubbing his temples again. A sudden headache had come on, one of the warning signs of an oncoming vision.

"Said that there were signs of a Hurakan," Dean said, not taking any stock of Sam's actions.

"A what?" Sam asked, trying to concentrate. It was hard when it felt as though someone were trying to split his head open with a blunt axe.

"A Hurakan," Dean said, glancing sideways at Sam. "They're apparently weather demons. They are Mayan gods who control the weather. They can cause really bad storms and hurricanes. You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, blinking. His vision suddenly changed from the long and dusty road in front of him to a run down town. The buildings were made of rotting wood and had huge, gaping holes in them. The sky above was iron gray and looked as though it were about to start spewing rain any second. It did nothing to add to the landscape.

A signpost proclaimed the town as _Furculae_ in faint peeling letters. _Furcula _was Latin for fork. _Furculae_ was the plural. In English, that was Forks, which just happened to be a town in Washington.

There was a small girl standing in the middle of a crossroads, beckoning to something. Sam waited, feeling cold horror sweep through him as a tall, balding, gray haired man stepped forwards next to the girl. The man had bright yellow eyes.

"You have done well, Hurakan," the demon said. "You have drawn him to us."

"What should we do with him?" the girl asked, her voice wispy and faint, like a soft breeze. With a start, Sam realized that this must be the thing he and Dean were heading towards. The thing they were about to start hunting.

"For now, just lock him in the storm cellar on the outskirts of town. You know the one I'm talking about," the demon said with a smirk.

The vision changed again. Sam was standing in front of an extremely small building. It was a storm cellar, similar to the ones he had grown up seeing in Kansas. The door was propped open and both demons were inside, leaning over something. Sam looked closer and then jumped back in surprise. It was himself.

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"Sammy?"

Dean's concerned voice brought Sam back to the present with a gasp. He couldn't believe the things he had just seen. First of all was the town itself. The last time Sam had checked, Forks was a small, thriving town in the Northern Peninsula of Washington. It wasn't rundown or abandoned. There were also no storm cellars in Forks, or there shouldn't have been. What had happened to the town? Second of all, the yellow eyed demon. Sam had never had such a direct vision of the demon since before John died. Even then, the demon had been just a shadowy figure. It had never shown its form. Not like this, anyway. The third had been the subject of the vision. Sam had never seen himself in any of his visions. This had been an unwelcome change in the ongoing horror of these things.

"I don't think the Hurakan is in Texas, Dean. I think it's in Washington," Sam said.

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Please note that I did all the research on the Latin terminology and the demon myself. The Hurakan is a Mayan God that does actually cause bad weather and control it. I took some liberties in describing it, like the voice and the appearance. However, the rest is the truth. The Latin terminology I got off of a Latin translator, so it may not be correct. If it's not, I'm sorry.

**Also, I'm a tad obsessed with _Twilight_ but that's not where I got the town name. It was the only one that would translate into Latin on the website, so I decided to make it work. **

**Please read and review. If you are interested in this story, then please tell me. I live for reviews! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Supernatural **_**or any of its characters. **

**Author's Note: This chapter is mostly Dean centric. I didn't really feel like writing Sam today, so I just stuck with Dean. Read and review, please!!**

**The Storm of the Century**

**Chapter 2**

"_**The Omens**_**"**

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Three Days Later

**A small hotel somewhere in Texas**

The scenery outside was of a dirt parking lot surrounded by miles and miles of desert sand. There wasn't a rain cloud in sight in the bright light blue sky. There were also no signs of demonic omens in any of the towns in Texas. There was just one big desert, bright blue skies, and really hot temperatures.

Dean took all this in from the window of his hotel room. He had driven in late last night, after spending three days in Arizona. He had gone to a bar, gotten really drunk, and ended up having a hangover that had lasted two days. Since Sam had decided to go out on his own, Dean had been laid up in a dingy hotel room that had no decent television, waiting for the hangover to pass.

Sam had told Dean about his mysterious 'hunch' that the Hurakan was in Washington. Dean had known that his brother's 'hunch' was more like a vision, but if Sam didn't want to share, Dean wasn't going to force him. Dean had told Sam that he was going after Bobby's more reliable lead, insulting his brother in the process. Sam had gotten offended and taken off from the hotel room they had chosen to spend the night, leaving his cell phone in the front seat of the Impala. Dean had no way of tracking Sam and no way of knowing if he was all right.

Dean angrily slammed newspaper down on the tiny hotel table, glaring resentfully out at the bright sunshine in front of him. He wanted nothing more then to just take off and find Sam before something else did. But he couldn't, because Bobby had told him that he was driving down from South Dakota to meet him and that Dean was to stay put. Dean had gotten into the Impala three times since he had gotten off the phone with Bobby an hour ago to drive north towards Washington, but each time, Sam's angry words kept playing back to him: _I can take care of myself, Dean. I don't need your help_. So, each time, Dean had done the right thing and gone back to the boiling hotel room to wait for Bobby.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean muttered, getting out of his chair. He started pacing the hotel room, for lack of anything better to do.

The truth was, Dean was starting to get really worried about Sam. Even when they separated the first time when Sam wanted to go after their father in California and Dean decided to go after the pagan god, Sam still called Dean after twenty-four hours. It had been three _days_ and still no word from his younger brother.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

Almost if on cue, Dean's cell phone went off. Dean glanced at in surprise, not expecting anyone to call, before pouncing on it.

"Sam?" he asked, hoping it was his younger brother.

_"Sorry, son. It's me, Bobby. I take it you haven't heard from your brother recently?"_

Dean had never been as disappointed to hear the elder hunter's voice as he was now. He visibly deflated and flopped down on one of the queen sized beds. He had taken the room with two out of habit.

"No, Bobby, I haven't," he said, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "Have you heard anything?"

Bobby had agreed to call the Roadhouse and all of his hunter friends in order to find Sam. Dean knew it was hopeless; Sam wouldn't be found unless he wanted to be, but it was still reassuring that he wasn't the only one looking for his younger brother.

_"Sorry, Dean. No such luck. I did, however, find a lead on the Hurakan demon."_

"Where?" Dean asked, sitting up a little straighter. Maybe if he tracked down the Hurakan demon, he would find Sam.

_"Caleb says it's in Washington. There have been all sorts of demonic omens cropping up within the past two days there and they just keep getting more numerous by the hour. Didn't you say that's where your brother thought the demon was?"_

Dean felt as though he had been punched in the gut. Sam had been right after all and being the moron that he was, Dean hadn't believed him.

_"Dean? You still there?"_

"Yeah, Bobby. Sorry. Where are you?"

_"I'm about three hours outside of Texas, in Cotton, Oklahoma."_

"Find the nearest hotel. I'll meet you there."

_"Son, there's always a chance that Sam can take this thing on his own, you know that, right?"_

"Yeah," Dean said softly. "But I want to be there, anyway."

_"All right,"_ Bobby said after a moment's pause. _"I'm pulling of the interstate now. There's a tiny hotel called _Sun Ray Inn_ at mile marker 300. How long do you think it will take you to get there?"_

"I'll be there by sunset," Dean said, closing the phone.

He sighed again. _I'm sorry, Sammy,_ he thought, hoping his younger brother was okay. He grabbed the keys to the Impala and headed out the door, leaving only two newspapers and an empty beer bottle in his wake.

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A small hotel, somewhere in Washington

Sam stared blankly at the computer screen and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. He hadn't gotten any sleep in the three days since he had left Dean in Arizona to go to Washington. He had been doing mostly research, only taking an hour or two out of the day to go get food and caffeine to stay awake. He had thought about calling Dean a lot over the past few days, but each time he had picked up the phone to call him, Dean's final words kept running through his head: _if you're going to go, stay gone this time! I'm sick of always having to save your sorry ass anyway!_

So, Sam decided not to call Dean and instead busied himself in the research of the Hurakan demon. So far, he had found next to nothing about them, other then what dean had told him earlier and that they normally went after huge, prospering cities such as Los Angeles and New York City. There had been no evidence to say why a Hurakan would go after a small town such as Forks.

As Sam stared at the computer screen, he felt an immense feeling of satisfaction, mixed in with fear and nerves. There had been three cattle mutilations on a small farm on the outskirts of Forks, there had been an electrical storm yesterday, and trees in some of the oldest forests of Forks had suddenly started dying. There was at least one demon in Forks, Sam was certain.

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The road to Oklahoma

**5:00 PM **

Rain started falling steadily as Dean maneuvered the darkening highways through Texas. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, though with the sudden rain, it looked as though it were about nine o'clock at night.

He had called Bobby five minutes ago and told the elder hunter that he wouldn't be able to make it out of Texas that night. There had been a huge wreck on the interstate that had blocked traffic for three hours straight. Traffic was just now being able to move past the wreck.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

Dean's cell phone went off in the backseat of the Impala. He never heard it, for the second he had switched lanes, an eighteen-wheeler had come out of nowhere, blocking Dean's path.

"Shit!" he swore, as he swerved to miss the truck. The Impala's front end collided with the cement median. Dean was knocked out on impact.

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Sorry for the delay in updates. I haven't been on the computer in forever and have just now gotten around to writing this thing. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are most welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural_ or any of its characters.**

**Storm of the Century**

**Chapter 3**

**"_Dean's Missing_"**

_Smoke On The Water_ blared continuously out of the backseat of the abandoned black muscle car. The rain that was falling steadily outside of the car was soaking the interior due to a large hole in the driver's seat window. There was blood on the glass edges and on the steering wheel. The person the blood belonged to, however, was missing.

Bobby took in all of this as he stood outside the Impala in the pouring rain. He had gotten a phone call late last night from a traffic cop, saying that there was an abandoned, wrecked Impala on the interstate and that there were was a cell phone with his own number in it. Bobby had sworn loudly before hanging up and calling Dean's cell phone. No answer. He had headed down to Texas, to the place where the Impala was being held, so he could tow it back to South Dakota.

The music continued to play, breaking Bobby's intense thoughts. He realized that it was coming from the cell phone in the backseat. It wasn't Dean's. Dean had changed his ring tone the last time he had been at Bobby's to a Metallica song.

With a start, Bobby realized that it was more then likely Sam's. He remembered that Dean had mentioned something through all of his drunken ramblings a few nights ago about how Sam had left his cell phone on the front seat of the Impala so that Dean wouldn't be able to track him.

With a little bit of cursing and head banging on his part, Bobby finally got the cell phone out of the back seat. Not recognizing the number, he hit the 'answer' on the unfamiliar phone.

"Hello?"

_"Bobby? Is that you?"_

The voice was familiar. It belonged to the youngest Winchester.

"Sam? Where the hell are you?" Bobby demanded, putting on his best 'angry father' imitation. He couldn't help but feel relieved, though. Sam must have been all right, or else he wouldn't be calling.

_"I'm in Washington,"_ Sam said. _"I think I found the Hurakan. Why are you answering my cell phone? Where's Dean? Is he all right? He wasn't answering his. I thought it might have died or something, that's why I tried mine."_

"Sam, your brother's missing. He was in a car wreck last night. The Impala was found, but Dean wasn't in it," Bobby admitted.

Dead silence followed the elder hunter's words. He hoped Sam hadn't hung up.

"Sam? You still there?"

_"Dean's… missing?"_

Sam had all the signs of a Winchester going into shock. Bobby had seen it before on Dean's face when their father had gone missing and before on John Winchester's face when he had admitted that Sam had left the family and gone to Stanford.

"Sam, look, your idjit of a brother is probably fine. He probably just ended up in a hospital somewhere," Bobby said, trying to calm the youngest Winchester down. He knew that his words would have no affect on Sam whatsoever.

_"He wouldn't go anywhere without his damn car, Bobby,"_ Sam said. He sounded angry now. _"What the hell happened?"_

"I don't know, son," Bobby admitted. "I got a call last night that the police found the Impala abandoned on the side of the road."

_"Are there any signs of what took him?"_ Sam asked. He was hesitant now and Bobby understood. It was one thing for Dean to be missing just by normal human means. It was another thing if he was missing as in supernatural means, especially if you were being chased by demons.

"I haven't gotten the chance to look yet," Bobby said. "I was just about to when you called."

_"Can you look now? I need to know where he is,"_ Sam said. There was something ominous about his tone. Bobby didn't like it.

"Yeah, hold your horses," Bobby muttered. He figured that the hole in the driver seat's window would be the best place to start. It looked as though someone, _or something_, Bobby thought, had smashed through it and unlocked the door from the inside.

He inspected the door and the window very carefully, knowing that Sam would kill him if he missed anything that would help him find his brother.

There was strong smell of rotting eggs close to the steering wheel on the inside. Bobby soon found a small amount of soaked, yellow powder that was staining the door handle and the interior of the Impala.

"Shit," he muttered, forgetting that he was on the phone.

_"Bobby, what is it?"_ Sam's worried voice brought him back to reality.

"Dean's been taken by a demon," Bobby said bluntly.

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Sam blinked in surprise. Well, more of dropped the pay phone, slid to the ground, and started to hyperventilate then blink, but it was all done in surprise. Dean was taken by a demon. Dean, his older brother, his protector, the one person he could always count on to be there no matter what the hell happened, was taken by a damn _demon_. How the hell had that happened?

Sam's next reaction was an overpowering sense of guilt. He had left his brother alone. It was his fault that Dean had been in the car crash. It was his fault that Dean had been taken by a demon. He should have been there, but no, he had to go after his vision (where, ironically, two demons had been) and leave his brother all alone by himself. What the hell kind of brother did that?

_"Sam, you still there? Sam? SAM!"_

Bobby's harsh voice worked through Sam's web of emotions. He blinked again, picking up the phone, ignoring all the strange looks he was getting from the people outside of the booth. Slowly, he stood up, ignoring the sense of vertigo he got as he did so.

"Yeah, Bobby. I'm still here. Listen, I'm going to call you back from the hotel phone," he said, knowing that his fifty-cents was about to run out on the library's pay phone. He had just finished his last bit of research on the Hurakan at the library and had found out a great deal. Now was not the time to reflect on that, though.

_"Okay, Sam. Call me right back. If I don't hear from you within an hour I'm coming up there,"_ Bobby threatened.

Sam let out a weak smile, knowing that his friend would do just that.

"All right," he said. "I'll call you right back."

He hung up and sighed. All he had wanted to do was to talk to Dean. Instead, he had found out that his brother was missing and that a demon had taken him. Life really knew how to kick a Winchester when he was down.

Running a hand nervously through his hair, he slowly made his way out of the library's pay phone booth.

He got a quarter of the way back to the hotel before his head started throbbing. It got so bad he couldn't see where he was going. He blinked and the scene changed from the rainy streets of Port Angeles to the decimated town of Forks.

The storm cellar was dark and cold. The sound of strong winds was occurring outside.

"Help!" Sam yelled, feeling as though he were drowning in the darkness.

The storm cellar door opened. Dean stepped in, his eyes averted to the ground.

"Sammy," he whispered.

"Dean?"

Sam let out a gasp as Dean's face raised to meet his. The normal hazel color was gone. In their place was a bright, vivid shade of yellow.

Sam was startled out of his vision by a soft hand being placed on his back. He spun around, breathing hard, to see a small, thin brunette girl with long hair and bright blue eyes staring up at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.

Sam nodded, blinking a couple of times to gain his focus. The world seemed strangely fuzzy.

"Yeah, just had a really bad headache," he said, offering her a slight smile. She didn't look impressed.

"You were clutching at your head and looked as though you were having some sort of attack," she said, her voice losing the softness. "That doesn't sound like a really bad headache."

"I'm fine, really," Sam said, trying to get rid of this nosy woman. "I've had these kinds of things before."

That was a half-truth. He did get visions a lot, but not like the one he had just had. Dean was possessed by the yellow-eyed demon. How was that possible? Then, Sam remembered that Dean was missing. _Shit_.

"I think you need to go to the hospital," the woman said, moving her hand to his arm. He felt a jolt of electricity go through him. He blinked, stunned by the sudden feeling.

"No, I'm fine, really," he protested, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart. "I need to get back to my hotel room. I need to call someone."

"There's no way in hell that I'm letting you go back to a hotel room like this. You look like shit," the woman said. "And I don't want a death on my hands."

"Then come with me," Sam countered, not really having time for this. If Dean was really possessed by the yellow-eyed demon, then Sam needed Bobby's help. Now.

"The things I do for people," she muttered. "Where's your hotel room?"

"What's your name?" Sam asked.

"Molly," she said after a moment's hesitation. "Yours?"

"Sam," he said, not having time to think up of an alias. "I'm at the _Red Circle_. You coming or not?"

"I'll give you a ride," Molly said. "I don't need you passing out on me and making me drag your big ass to the hotel room."

Sam couldn't but smile at this. She reminded him a lot of Dean. _Dean,_ he thought, the smile fading.

"Let's go," he said, not caring if his voice sounded harsh or not.

Molly nodded, leading the way to an old battered tan colored Jeep.

"It's not much, but it works," she said, catching Sam's look. He shrugged. It was a way to get back to the hotel.

They drove in silence until they hit the hotel.

"I can take it from here," Sam said. "Thanks for the ride."

"There is no way I'm letting you out of my sight," she snapped. "If you die, then I want to make sure you at least get a proper funeral."

"I'm not going to die! I'm fine!" Sam snapped.

"Are you usually a pretty shade of charcoal? Do you usually look as though you've seen a ghost?" Molly snapped back. "I'm coming with you and that's final or I'm locking the doors and driving your ass to the hospital."

"Fine," Sam growled, getting out of the Jeep. "I'm in room 10."

"I'll be right there," Molly said, ignoring Sam's glare. "I'm going to get a soda. You want anything?"

"No," he said, not making any effort to make his voice friendly.

"I'll get you a coke," she decided, heading off towards the vending machine. Sam sighed. _Why do I always end up babysitting?_ He wondered, stalking towards his room. He slammed the door shut behind him, knowing that if Molly came back, she'd probably knock. He walked over to the phone and dialed Bobby's number by heart.

The knock on the door came at the third ring.

"It's open!" he called. Bobby's cell phone went straight to voicemail. Swearing, Sam dialed Bobby's home number, not realizing that the door had opened and someone had entered the room.

"You looking for me?" asked an all too familiar voice.

Sam spun around. He couldn't believe it. Dean, here in Port Angeles. What the hell?

The last thing he saw were Dean's bright yellow eyes before everything went black.


End file.
